Roxy’s puffy, red face scowls as Voodoo looks on, pleading. She has a cigarette in her left hand, and a martini in the other. The two sit in silence, save for the hissing, crackling sound of the television. The room is wallpapered with cigarette burns and the carpet is so stained that it might have once been white, but is now a dirty beige. Gazing out their bedroom window, Roxy can see the morning sun rise above the horizon. The warm colors of orange and red paint the sky as the night’s cool air is filled with the brightening of each star. Distant sirens in the city signal the end to another day. Hair is styled the same, same clothes, but looks like Roxy dropped 30 lbs since the wedding. Charles hasn’t changed much, he looks the same with the same haircut and clothes.
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